


Geralt's bottles

by dragonascent



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Geralt x Eskel, Geralt x Yennefer, M/M, Multi, Multiship, geralt is in relationship with multiple people, geralt x shani, i just want geralt to be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29287395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonascent/pseuds/dragonascent
Summary: Geralt gets bottles from people who loves him.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Shani, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21
Collections: The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #015





	Geralt's bottles

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a good writer, so I do appreciate constructive feedback, but I am also very fragile, like those bottles Geralt keeps around, so please be nice to me. This was mainly for self indulgence. I just want geralt to be happy.
> 
> Written for TWFF Challenge #15.

Geralt had left Kaer Morhen that spring with six new bottles of swallow. They were the courtesy of Lambert, who had hid them in Geralt’s saddlebags while he was not looking. It was a failure of course, Lambert has never been able to sneak anything past Geralt in the 80 years that they’ve known each other. The result was numerous failed pranks and Geralt becoming even more on guard when he catches the younger witcher’s scent in his things.

That’s why when Geralt caught a slight whiff of phosphorus(a common ingredient used in bombs) he immediately turned around to look at the retreating backs of his peers, who were walking in the direction of the keep after bidding him goodbye. As Geralt expected, Lambert was nowhere to be seen, despite being present minutes ago. Gingerly, Geralt checks his bags again to assess whatever Lambert has done. And to his surprise, he found six shiny new bottles of swallow, the liquid more amber than the crimson that usually tints Geralt’s own creations. The swallow were made by Lambert. Just like how Geralt is better than his brothers at swordplay and Eskel at Signs, Lambert’s alchemy skills were unmatched among the wolves of Kaer Morhen even before their numbers dwindled drastically. 

Now that Geralt thought about it, Lambert was being awfully secretive in the past week before Geralt’s scheduled departure. Quickly checking that nothing else was amiss with his saddlebags, Geralt packed everything up again and hopped onto roach, gently squeezing her midsection with his calves to encourage her into a light gallop. The potions, which in Geralt’s experience, are far more potent than any other he has seen. They would come in clutch someday, and could potentially save Geralt’s life. He would keep at least one bottle on his person at all times and use them sparingly so that they may last the year. And next year, or the year after, when Geralt returns to Kaer Morhen for winter again, he might bring some bags of expensive wheat and bribe Eskel into making Lambert’s favorite sweet buns. It was with thoughts of his feisty baby brother and the scent of honeyed sweet buns in his mind, Geralt and Roach returned to their path once again.

Geralt had made a detour to Shani’s clinic in Oxenfurd while passing through the city between contracts. The medic was the only he knew that stocked up on witcher’s potions as well as regular potions for curing flus and colds. It was a blessing as busy cities were always bursting with monster contracts to be taken, and Geralt would really rather spend his time fighting monsters than brewing the potions that he needed. 

A Nightwraith that had been killing peasants and travelers just a few miles outside of Oxenfurd. It was apparently born of the grief of an elven maiden who had fallen in love with a human man. The family of the girl knew of her fate and had hired Geralt to release her from the torture of being a wraith. Geralt needed petri's philter and tawny owl to keep his Yrden strong enough to trap the her firmly, thunderbolt to increase the power in his strikes, to get the fight over and done with as fast as possible (he did not enjoy causing the wraith any more pain than what is needed to release her) and swallow to keep replenishing his own blood and knot up his wounds when the Nightwraith inevitably shreds his skin with her long and sharp claws. Just as Geralt collected the potions he needed and made his payment to the young man who Shani had employed to help her manage her medicine stores, he was stopped by the young woman herself with a tap on his shoulder. 

“This is for you. I saw that contract on the noticeboard a few days ago and thought that this might come in handy, if a Witcher was in the area to take it.” She handed him a bottle of emerald green liquid labeled with her neat handwriting. “ Reliever's decoction ” it said. Geralt looked up into her warm green eyes, surprised at the thoughtfulness and kindness of her. Although, he probably shouldn't have been, as Shani always had those two qualities in abundance. “Thank you,” he replied to her as he let his guard down, giving her a slight smile in return. 

The evening was approaching and Geralt had to leave then if he wanted to have enough time to get to the location of the haunting as well as prepare sufficiently for it. He bid Shani farewell and promised to return after the hunt to catch up with her. Their fire had died down significantly since the end of the wars among the Northern kingdoms and Nilfgaard, but they had always been good friends with benefits. Perhaps when Geralt returns to Shani’s clinic later, they would do a bit more than catching up. As Geralt rode Roach out of the gates of Oxenfurd, his heart felt much lighter than it had been in a long time. 

Geralt and Eskel met by chance just outside of Crow’s Perch in Velen. The Bloody Baron who ruled the small fortress has since returned with his wife in much better conditions than when Geralt last saw her and declared that all witchers were welcome to stay in his guest rooms free of charge. Since then, the area has become a rather popular spot for witchers looking for a place to take a break from their path. 

Technically, Geralt and Eskel can choose to travel together. Since there are so few witchers left, it really doesn’t make a big difference if some of them traveled in pairs. In fact, two witchers would be able to take care of contracts much faster than a lone witcher could ever hope, and move to the next location much faster, thus covering more ground than a single witcher could. However, both witchers had agreed that that would not apply to them as the temptation to act like horny teenagers was often too much to handle even in their keep during winter with peering and judging eyes from both Lambert and Vesemir. Both of them have enough regrets and traumas relating to contracts that they would rather not think about and would really like to have ‘having people die because the witchers that were supposed to take care of their monster problems were holed up in a dingy inn fornicating like rabbits in heat’ off that list. “That would be incredibly unsexy,” Eskel had commented the night before Geralt’s departure the winter before. “What if I can’t get hard for you again?” Geralt ignored the comment in favor of enjoying the solid form of Eskel’s penis still inside his body.

Despite it only having been a little over half a year of not seeing each other, both Eskel and Geralt were tearing at each other’s clothes as soon as the Baron’s servant left them in their shared guest room to their own devices. It was rare when they had the chance to go at each other freely without considering the sensitive ears of other witchers around. Even rarer is the chance to enjoy the sense of privacy provided by the thick walls of the Bloody Baron’s guest rooms which no dingy inn room could compare to, and the plush bed large enough for two men to spread out comfortably. For the first three days after they reunited, both witchers couldn’t get enough of the feeling of their hands on the other’s skin, kissing and fucking to their heart’s content, only leaving their bed long enough to get their water skins, and once to use the outhouse. It was only at dusk of the third day when their vigorous activities had turned to lazy cuddling when Geralt asked Eskel what he was doing at Crow’s Perch. 

“I’m here to meet a guy called Griswold,” Eskel replied as he combed through Geralt’s white hair with his fingers. “He’s a merchant, saved him from bandits once. He’s been selling me cherry cordial in crates with a good discount every year around this time ever since.” Geralt, with his head resting on Eskel’s chest, hummed to indicate that he was still listening, although the steady beating of the other witcher’s heart was certainly luring him to sleep. 

The next morning was the scheduled time for Eskel and Griswold to meet. Geralt stayed in their shared room to enjoy his much needed bath the baron’s servants had kindly drawn for him, soaking until his skin turned wrinkly and the water cooled. It was only then Geralt had started to think about Eskel’s morning errand. Cherry cordial was only used to make white gull, and Geralt was certainly craving the strong spirit, but more importantly, he was running out of the alchemy ingredient. While any strong alcohol can be used as a base in a potion, using white gull made the potion especially potent and effective. Perhaps he could ask Eskel to share some of his cherry cordial, as that was the most difficult ingredient to come by. 

However, when Eskel finally returned with two loaves of fresh bread and a pack of roasted pork from the market, Geralt had forgotten about his shortage of supplies in favor of focusing on his more immediate needs. It was only a week after when Geralt saw the bottles of cherry cordial in his saddle bags that he remembered what he wanted to ask of Eskel, but of course, the pair had already parted ways by then. It was with warmth in his heart that Geralt extracted one of the bottles to take a sniff at it, deciding that he should brew some white gull that night. As the sweet scent of cherries infiltrated his nostrils, for just a split second, Geralt felt the weight on his shoulders lift, as if all was right.

Dandelion was too old to travel with Geralt. With knees that ache when it rains and a back that would violently remind him of his age if he did not sleep on a proper bed, Dandelion had to admit that he could no longer follow Geralt on his witchering adventures no matter how much he wanted to in soul. Besides, he had other responsibilities now, responsibilities that took the form of his beautiful wife Pricillia and their two young children. Anyone who had known Dandelion for any significant amount of time would agree that the poet had changed more after the birth of his children in the past five years than the whole forty-four years prior. Who would have thought that him, Master Poet Dandelion, Julian Alfred Pankratz,  Viscount de Lettenhove, Master of the Seven Liberal Arts, would one day settle down with a wife and kids while running a Cabaret? Even Dandelion himself was in awe. 

However, even if Dandelion could no longer travel with his dear friend Geralt, it was still his mission to make sure that the witcher would have a less hard of a time on the road. That is why, whenever Geralt travels through his home in Novigrad, Dandelion stuffs the witcher’s saddlebags with various exotic spices ranging. From bottles of powder made from Zarrikanian chilli to rock sugar made from the syrup of a specific species of maple trees that only grow in Toussaint, Dandelion was sure that Geralt’s seasoning stores would outshine any other traveler. Dandelion knew that the witcher Geralt had an awful habit of not putting much spices into his camp fire roasts at all, often making perfectly fine game taste bland and boring. It was only after much whining and complaining from Dandelion’s part when they started traveling together that the witcher had only started to season his food with salt. So, while he can no longer physically accompany Geralt on his adventures, his spices would make sure that Geralt was not suffering from his own lack of creativity in cooking his meals. And Dandelion hoped that when Geralt has a hearty meal that is seasoned properly, he would remember that his dear old friend in Novigrad still thinks of him.

When Geralt of Rivia entered Yennefer’s house for the second time that day, he was covered in sewage and monster guts, a fact that Yennerfer’s nose did not appreciate at all. It was hard not to turn her face away from the witcher emitting the pungent smell of the blood and gore soaking him mixed with sewage waste but Yennefer tried to not show her dismay so that she would not hurt her witcher’s fragile feelings. However, her resilience against the assault of the scent of rot and iron against her nostrils was short lived. As soon as Geralt demonstrated that he had indeed retrieved the package filled with expensive alchemy ingredients that drowners had stolen from her, she teleported him to the bath she had prepared for him in her guest room, stripping him of his gear in the process.

When Yennefer finally decided to check on Geralt again after making sure that nothing in her package had leaked from their containers, what she found was a witcher soaked like a wet cat and cussing about portals and sorceresses. He eyed her accusingly as she approached, obviously still cross from the impromptu teleportation, but smelling much less pungent now that he is free from his clothes, where most of the gunk was attached to. Yennefer acknowledged neither the staring nor the whining, but instead made her way to a bottle she had placed previously on the bed side table near the bath and picked it up. The bottled soap was a new product that had quickly become popular amongst the upper class women in the Northern Realms, and Yennefer had been lucky enough to get her hands on one at a reasonable price when the demand was so high. Under Geralt’s scrutinizing gaze, Yennefer uncorked the bottle and tilted it slightly over Geralt’s bath, so that one drop of the pink liquid inside rolled out of the bottle mouth and into the still warm water of the bath. 

As soon as the drop of liquid submerged into the watcher, fragrant smelling bubbles and foam started to form. And soon enough, the surface was covered with the white substance. Geralt might have melted into the sea of whiteness if not for his golden eyes surveying the bubbles surrounding him. It was with a childlike curiosity that he lifted one hand from underneath the water to grab at the bubbles that formed. The innocent expression on Geralt’s face was not something that Yennefer caught glimpses of often. It did please her very much to see him enjoying the effects of her new soap, so much that she almost didn’t mind that the foam obscured her witcher’s bare form from her line of sight. It is alright, she supposes, she will get to have an eye full when he joins her in her rooms after the bath. Chiding Geralt to hurry up getting clean instead of playing with the soap and to join her when he was done, Yennefer turned her back to Geralt to return to her own rooms for some preparation of her own. Looking at the bottle of soap still in her hands and remembering Geralt’s expression in the bubble bath, Yennefer decided to banish the bottle into Geralt’s saddlebags instead of it’s usual place in her cabinet. When Geralt finally joined her half an hour later looking wrinkled like a giant white raisin and smelling like roses, Yennefer decided that the soap was indeed one of the best purchases that she had made in a long while.

Geralt of Rivia had a treasured chest of bottles. Whenever Ciri would ask him about it, he would give her a little smile and act all mysterious while clamping his jaws shut so he wouldn’t make a sound. No matter how Ciri bribed or threatened or probed at the side of Geralt’s torso, he just wouldn’t budge. That doesn’t stop Ciri from investigating on her own, though. She is determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. She used to think that they were used potion bottles, but Geralt had a bad habit of throwing those away right after he used them. While some of them definitely looked like they could be just that, there were others which made her question that hypothesis. Some of them were decorated with ribbons of silk or even had delicate carvings for decoration, certainly not something that Geralt would have gotten for himself. Maybe Geralt was a collector of bottles, Ciri chuckled at herself, reminding herself Geralt’s habitual disposal of his reusable potions bottles. Despite Ciri’s determination, she had made no progress in determining the use of the mysterious bottles in the years after she had found out about their existence. However, when she saw the chest appear in Geralt’s home in Corvo Bianco, with the contents evidently cleaned and polished, she was not surprised. One fact about them that she had known all along was how much Geralt cared about them, after all.


End file.
